


And You Can Call This My Funeral

by LoveLikeHeaven



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen, Tired Geoff, allusions to the dusk boys, but these boys cant go five seconds without getting into trouble, he just wants a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLikeHeaven/pseuds/LoveLikeHeaven
Summary: Geoff swears these boys will be the death of him. He feels like he ages ten years every time he has to bail someone out of jail, or buy a new warehouse after a weapons testing gone wrong, or any of the other hundreds of things he does daily.But not today. Today he has a cup of coffee, a donut, and an empty penthouse. And He'll be damned if he lets it go to waste.





	And You Can Call This My Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by R.I.P. 2 My Youth by The Neighbourhood.

Geoff stretched and yawned as he shuffled his way down the hall and into the kitchen. The dripping of the automatic coffee maker was the only sound in an otherwise silent penthouse. The cacophony of rainbows shining in through the blinds of the floor to ceiling windows and the smell of coffee permeating the air created a relaxing atmosphere that Geoff so desperately needed.

Every part of Geoff’s body was sore and he groaned as he leaned against the counter. The past few weeks had been hellish. Between heists, rival gangs, and a surprise run-in with the cops, Geoff was worn out. He was _done_ and everyone noticed.

After they all had gotten in last night, Jack had promised him a day off. He and the others were going to go out to have some (non-illegal) fun, and swore up and down not to get into too much trouble.

Geoff smiled to himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up so peacefully. No alarms, no fighting, no “accidental” explosions; Just him, the sun, and a slow fading dream he can no longer recall the details of.

These boys will be the death of him he swears. He feels like he ages ten years every time he has to bail someone out of jail, or buy a new warehouse after a weapons testing gone wrong, or any of the other hundreds of things he does daily.

His musings are interrupted by the beeping of the coffee maker signaling its completion. He fills his mug, grabs a donut from the pastry box on the counter, and heads to the living room. By the time he’s slumped down on the couch the donut is almost gone. He sits for a minute as he dunks the remaining piece in his cup and savors the bitter-sweet concoction before grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV.

Geoff freezes and his heart sinks in his chest as the most recent news story blares across the screen.

_We are reporting live from a wild police chase currently running through downtown Los Santos. The commotion appears to have started at the pier when an argument with a local hot dog vendor turned into a shootout which resulted in the subsequent chase. Our sources report that the gang of criminals responsible for the mess are members of the infamous Fake AH Crew. We are now going to hand off to our reporter at the scene Malcolm Forthright who is following the chase from a helicopter._

Geoff watches as the picture changes to a shaky camera view of a convoy of vehicles being chased by a gaggle of police cars. At the front of the convoy leads a motorcycle driven by a man in a black leather jacket and a skull masks; riding on the back of that motorcycle is a woman in a Hawaiian shirt shooting at the police officers stationed at the roadblock ahead of them. Behind them was a purple and orange sports car driven by a man in a cowboy hat and in the backseat another man in a brown leather jacket fired explosives via grenade launcher at the cop cars around them. Bringing up the rear was a black truck filled with three men in capes two of which were shooting out the back.

What is left of Geoff’s peaceful morning dissipates as the most recent explosion shakes the ground beneath him and the police lights become visible from the from the penthouse windows. He chugs the remainder of his coffee and sets down the cup. A sigh escapes him as he pushes his weary limbs up from the couch.

“Well, r.i.p. to my youth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao at this point I think it's safe to say that all my fic ideas originate from songs. Anyway thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT 5/22/2019: I have gone back and fixed all the mistakes I could find. I also rearranged some of the sentences.


End file.
